


Prickly Business

by radishleaf



Series: The Fool, Reversed - Ezra Oneshots [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, Teasing, it was totally not planned lol, like really bad flirting because lucio is a dork, things get kinda steamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-09 20:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19483414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radishleaf/pseuds/radishleaf
Summary: Never did Ezra think that joining his mother, Jemima, on an invitation to the palace would draw the annoying interest of Count Lucio.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to only be a oneshot, but ended up a two or three parter because lucio is so stupidly fun to write lol. unlike the previous fics that have some continuity with my fan apprentice, this is completely removed from the plot that's sorta-kinda going on there. so you needn't have read them to get the gist of this fic.
> 
> i'm fond of visualizations for characters, so have some art of my fan apprentice, ezra: [plonk](https://file.toyhou.se/watermarks/14502373_OqtsXvNNp.png). his sclera is white, not black, so please disregard that detail in the art~
> 
> as always, kindly disregard any grammatical errors, punctuation mistakes, and the like. i tried to be thorough. enjooooy.

The winding path up to the palace left mother and son both winded before they even reached the gates. Ezra was forced to linger as Jemima collected her bearings; her jitters and recent physical exertion requiring a long rest. Despite his reservations, the magician couldn’t help but think his mother’s feelings were warranted. After all, a personal invitation from the countess herself to share afternoon tea was an honor. It would take great mental effort to prepare the mind of a woman who found fault and concern with everything. It still didn’t assuage Ezra’s upset feelings of being dragged along for Jemima’s benefit, however.

Ezra shifted his chin over his shoulder to consider his mother. Her labored breathing had desisted, but her knees clattered together so restlessly that he thought she would collapse on the spot. “Mom, if this is too much for you, we can turn back,” Ezra said. “I’m sure Countess Nadia would understand if you’re—”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Jemima insisted. “It, it was simply the climb. It was too much for me. Just give me a few more minutes and then we can continue.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. She never listened. As admirable as her steadfast stubbornness was, he always found himself at odds with his mother. “All right, all right,” Ezra said, turning away from her to consider the palace. “When you’re ready, let me know.”

The majesty of the palace from afar paled in comparison to its beauty up close. Its many towers stretched like pale fingers into the crisp autumn sky; the gilded spires glowing warm under the high sun. Even though Ezra shared his mother’s opinion that Vesuvia itself was unsavory, he couldn’t deny the breathtaking architecture. Jemima stepped up beside her son, following his line of sight to the palace.

“Gaudy, isn’t it?” she asked.

Ezra eyed her from the side. “I was thinking the exact opposite. I think it’s lovely.”

“Really? And here I thought you would describe it as “ostentatious” or “kitschy” or “pretentious” or one of those other big words I’ve only ever heard you use.”

“Isn’t that a habit of _yours?_ You’re the one who is fond of throwing around words you don’t know the definitions of.”

“Only because I hear them from _you_. Even if I’m unaware of their meanings, you know them. I can always rely on you to correct me so I don’t look like a fool in front of others.”

“Is that why you dragged me along? So I can correct your foolishness?”

Jemima beamed brightly at Ezra. “Precisely.”

He audibly groaned. “Do I _really_ need to be here for that? Couldn’t you have brought along dad?”

“Cyrus is busy with more pressing business, so there was only you, Ezra. I know you’re not fond of these kinds of things—”

“Mom, I absolutely _hate_ them.”

“Yes, yes. I know you _hate_ them, but a moment like this is, gods, one in a million! It’s not often the countess invites an unaffiliated party for _tea._ ” Jemima began to walk again as she dreamily babbled. Ezra trailed along helplessly. “Especially _personally_. Oh, but she was so sweet, Ezra. Once she heard I was a commoner woman from Milova who married into nobility, she wanted to hear the entirety of my story herself! From my childhood, to meeting Cyrus, to the “self-made” woman I am considered now. She called me that, you know—a “self-made” woman. It was such a compliment, it almost brought me to tears!”

Ezra wasn’t so unbecoming he’d let his reservations get in the way of another’s happiness, especially his mother’s. Jemima was glowing as she continued to talk in awe and admiration of the countess. Though he couldn’t care less about either Nadia or her husband, he’d put up with their company if only for Jemima.

Once before the wrought iron gates that separated the palace from the rest of Vesuvia, Jemima gave pause to take in the palace again. It seemed her previous opinion of its supposed gaudiness was dashed aside when she talked highly of the countess, but Ezra hadn’t a chance to comment on this when he became aware of the palace guards. The two appeared stolid, but careful, as if sizing up the mother and son who had approached the gates. Fearing retaliation from their presence, Ezra took charge of the moment, and spoke to them himself.

“Can I help you?” the leftmost guard asked.

“Yes, both of us are here on invitation from the countess.”

“The reason?”

Jemima, who Ezra thought distracted, chimed in with, “For afternoon tea. She invited us _personally_.”

“Huh…” The guard looked doubtful. “And when was this?”

“Three days go, on the seventh. She’d attended a party held by our neighbor, Marianna—oh, what a persistent woman she is!—and we chitchatted a little before she was pulled away. The countess was _very_ eager to continue our chat from that day, and even followed up her interest with an invitation! Isn’t she lovely?”

Ezra cleared his throat before Jemima continued. “Mom, do you have that invitation?” he asked, worried they’d be there hours appealing to a guard who’d just deny them entrance in the end. “I’m sure they’d like to see it.”

“Oh! Yes, yes, I do.” Jemima rifled around on her person before producing a cream-colored envelope. “Here it is. Look”—she pointed to the wax seal—“it’s the personal relief of the countess herself.”

The guard studied the envelope for a lengthy beat, turning it over multiple times to see if anything appeared tampered with or amiss, before finally reading its contents. Once he confirmed its legitimacy, he presented the envelope back to Jemima, and motioned for the other guard to open the gate.

“I will inform the countess of your arrival,” he said as he led the two through the palace doors and into the parlor. All the while, Jemima’s eyes roamed the palace interior, taking in every iota of detail with a starstruck smile. Ezra thought she looked like a giddy pup teased with a ball.

“Well, thank you very much,” Jemima said when they finally reached the parlor. “Do make haste!”

“Thank you,” Ezra said in kind.

Jemima unceremoniously plopped down onto one of the violet-colored couches of the parlor and began to rub at her ankles when the palace guard parted from them. Ezra remained standing to keep vigil and make sure his mother didn’t get _too_ comfortable. After all, they were still guests; it would be unbecoming of her to wander the palace halls barefoot (as she was guilty of a myriad of times in the homes of others).

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Ezra,” Jemima said as if reading his mind. “I will respectfully keep my shoes on, even I still can’t understand why I should—it’s a norm in Milova.”

“Different place, different customs, Mom. You know that,” Ezra said.

“I’m aware,” Jemima replied with a small huff. “Especially here at the palace, which feels like two whole worlds removed from Vesuvia.”

“You can say that again,” Ezra said.

Just before Jemima could retort with the same quip, the same palace guard returned. Upon clearing his throat, he said, “Presenting, Countess Nadia!” At once, Jemima jumped to her feet, and stepped into the space beside her son.

A willowy young woman floated into the room, dressed in a turquoise and cream ensemble that Ezra instantly knew drew his mother’s envy. Her painted lips curved in a warm and welcoming smile as she presented the back of her hand to the Lockes. Jemima greeted the countess first by bending low and touching her forehead to it after a hello. Ezra, unsure of proper etiquette, mirrored his mother and did the same.

“Jemima,” Nadia said, her name sonorous when the countess spoke it. “What a great pleasure it is to see you again. You look lovely today.”

Jemima’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, thank you, Countess!” she cried. “You look wonderful today, as well!”

Nadia’s gaze slid to Ezra. “And I take it this is your son? It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

“Ezra.”

“Ah, yes. Ezra. Jemima spoke lovingly of you, Ezra. I would go as far as to say you made up most of our brief conversation together.”

Jemima shook a dismissive hand, clearly flustered. “O-oh, I didn’t talk of Ezra _that_ much,” she said. “He’s just such a good boy and deserves all of the praise in the world! Did you know—”

Ezra grimaced. “Mom, _please_. I’m sure Countess Nadia doesn’t want to hear about me. After all, we’re here for _you_.”

Nadia dipped her head in agreement. “Yes, the tea will grow cold if we have our conversation in the parlor. Come”—she beckoned the two along—“let us retire to the veranda. We can continue our talk there.”

The three barely managed a step before their course was broken by the introduction of a new body into the parlor. The palace guard announced, “Presenting, Count Lucio!” Ezra watched as the countess’s lip twisted in disgust as her husband made his entrance, a pout joining his outstretched arms. 

Unlike the palace, Ezra greatly wished to describe the count using the handful of words his mother suggested, but held his tongue from the obvious insult it would bring. While his wife talked and walked with a certain regality, Lucio was like a small boy playing pretend. He edged on throwing a tantrum as he marched up to his wife and pointed an accusing claw at her.

“Noddy, what is the meaning of this?” he asked. “You just got up in the middle of our conversation! I never thought you to be so rude!”

Nadia pursed her lips. “It wasn’t much of a conversation, _dear_ ,” she said, “when it was completely one-sided. And for your information, I clearly stated to you that I would be entertaining company in a few.”

“Well, I didn’t hear that part!”

“Unsurprising, since you probably didn’t hear it over your gloating. You didn’t even give me a chance to speak.”

Lucio clicked his tongue. “Whatever. Where’s these guests of yours, anyway? I want to meet them.”

Nadia looked reluctant to do so, but she stepped aside to present the Lockes. “These are our guests: Jemima and Ezra Locke. They are the wife and son of Cyrus Locke, owner of the estate passed the temple district.”

Lucio’s lips pulled down in a frown that clearly reflected his distaste. He obviously didn’t care for whatever his wife told him, and instead stepped forward to approve the two himself. His silver eyes glanced over Jemima once; as a woman up in age, he wanted to have nothing to do with her. But when his eyes landed on Ezra, they glinted, instantly signaling his interest.

Lucio stepped up before Ezra, chin clutched between forefinger and thumb as he studied the magician’s face. “Well, hello there,” he greeted, his tone dropping an octave. “You must be Ezra.”

Ezra quirked a brow at him, perturbed. “Clearly,” he replied, “I was just introduced.”

“What brings you here, Ezra? What business do you have with my wife?”

“I’m simply a guest; I’m here for my mother.”

“Then, none. You have no business with Noddy.”

Ezra’s brow gave an irritable twitch. “If you would like to interpret my reply in such a manner, Count Lucio, you are free to do so.”

The count’s smile widened considerably, but before he could speak another word, Nadia cut in. She clasped a hand on Lucio’s shoulder and jerked him back, feigning calm despite the agitation that wafted off of her in droves. Lucio all but regarded her, his attention entirely on Ezra.

“Dear, as Ezra said, he is here as a guest with his mother. The three of us were just about to depart for tea—which must be cold by now, thanks to your interruption—so please leave us to—”

Lucio shushed Nadia. Jemima, who found it fitting to linger on the side, actually gasped at his rudeness. “Ezra, do you want to join them for tea?” he asked.

Nadia frowned at him. “Lucio,” she said, though she went breezily ignored.

Ezra blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“It sounds depressingly boring, doesn’t it?”

“I’m unsure of what you’re insinuating, Count Lucio.”

Lucio huffed. “You _clearly_ don’t want to join them, do you?”

Ezra considered him for a beat before giving a glance to Jemima. “No, but I am willing to put my reservations aside to support my mother.”

Jemima’s eyes wavered. “Ezra…”

“Leave your mother to Noddy and join me in the gardens,” he said, though more demanded. “It’ll be ten times more entertaining than sitting around, conversing over tea.”

The temptation was clear, and Ezra thought it foolish of him to even consider accepting. Even Jemima looked at him worriedly, expecting him to obviously fall for the clear trap. Yet, against his better judgement, Ezra couldn’t deny Lucio’s words to be true: Spending time in the company of the count sounded more appealing.

“Mm, okay,” Ezra said. “I’ll join you, if that’s all right with you, Mom.”

Nadia and Jemima’s mouth were agape as Lucio gave a triumphant hoot of laughter, even punctuating it with a childish fist pump. Jemima reached out and clasped Ezra’s forearm, worry etched into every line on her face as she pulled him aside. Ezra felt slightly guilty to make her wear such an expression.

“Ezra, are you sure?” Jemima murmured to him. “You’ll be by yourself— _alone_ —in the company of Count Lucio.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Ezra said. “I don’t fear the count. However, what about you? Will you be fine without me?”

“The countess is a pleasant person, unlike her husband,” she said. “I’ll be fine. If, if the count should do anything to you, Ezra, please come retrieve me. We’ll leave immediately.”

Ezra nodded his head at her, even if he had his own contingency plan if a problem reared its ugly head. “Will do,” he reassured her.

“Ezra, come along now! Don’t keep me waiting!” Lucio called, clapping his hands together. “The gardens are only lovely this hour of the day!”

Nadia flashed him a plaintive look. “Dear, give them a mo—”

“Ezra!”

“ _Lucio!”_

Nadia’s admonishment fell on deaf ears as the count took it upon himself to clasp sharp claws on Ezra’s shoulders and physically extract him from the company of Jemima. She repressed a worried cry of her son’s name as he willingly let himself be dragged along. Even if she couldn’t utter a word, Jemima kept her eyes trained on Ezra until he disappeared down the corridor and out into the gardens.

The sickly-sweet air of the gardens was pungently suffocating. Ezra could barely breathe as he was dragged down untamed rows of white roses before the sharp sting of Lucio’s claws was gone. He jerked about to discover Lucio had seemingly disappeared. Ezra almost thought it a blessing in disguise until the count spoke.

“Ezra, Ezra, Ezra,” he purred. “Tell me about yourself.”

Ezra glanced about, unsure of where the voice came from. “Why should I do that?” he asked.

“Because your count requests it.”

“Hm. So?”

“S-so, just tell me!”

Ezra sighed. Was the count really _this_ insufferable? He’d heard rumors through the grapevine, but he never thought them to be true—until now. The fact just a few minutes in his company confirmed them was almost comical. It actually caused Ezra to snicker.

“Ah!” Lucio cried, suddenly popping out of a random rosebush. He was covered head to toe in stray leaves and thorns from supposedly hiding. Jabbing a finger at Ezra, he asked, “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

Lucio dramatically gasped. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

A smile curved on Ezra’s lips. “You heard me. Are you really the count that strikes fear into the Vesuvian populace?”

Lucio puffed out his chest. “You bet I am,” he said. “I’m also the charming and suave count of Vesuvia, as well.” He extended his clawed hand to Ezra. Between his fingers was an immaculately pristine white rose the size of his palm. “For you,” Lucio said.

Ezra tilted his head curiously at the flower. He gently fingered a petal, asking, “What’s this for?”

Lucio narrowed his eyes at the magician. “You’re frustratingly slow on the uptake, aren’t you?” he said. “It’s for you, obviously!”

“I don’t remember ever asking for a rose, Count Lucio.”

“It’s a gesture of my interest.”

“Again, not seeing the connection.”

“You’re _prickly_ ,” Lucio surmised, “just like this rose. But you’re awfully easy on the eyes. You see, Ezra, I like beautiful things. _Adore_ them. So, by extension, _I like you._ Is that clear enough for you?”

Ezra hummed in thought. “Very,” he said.

His hand slid over the rose as if to accept it, but instead, the magician crushed the bloom. Lucio gave a pained whimper as he ripped it from its stem and let the white petals flutter to the ground.

Glaring, Ezra said, “Even if you have an interest in me, I want to have nothing to do with you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ezra expected his rejection to be taken with some kind of backlash, maybe even his death, but he was mildly surprised to see a devilish smile crack on Lucio’s face. The rose’s stem slid from between the count’s fingers as his clawed hand came up to cup the magician under the chin. Digging the tips in, Ezra grunted as he was violently jerked forward. Lucio pulled Ezra’s face to mere inches from his own, his pearlescent smile reflected in the magician’s circular glasses.

“You’ve some nerve denying me what I want,” Lucio said tersely. “I am the count. I _always_ get what I want—and what I want is _you_. You’re in no position to turn me down.”

Ezra, unperturbed, quirked a brow. “Contrarily, I can do what I want,” he said. “You’ve done nothing to earn that privilege.”

“I am the _count_.”

“You’re nothing more than a child whining for things.”

Lucio’s eyes widened to the whites as he threw Ezra aside. The magician barely caught himself upright on a bush. Despite how insulted he appeared, Lucio’s smile never diminished.

“So, you’re going to be a challenge,” he said. “Fine, I can deal with that. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve broken someone.”

Ezra hummed as he straightened himself, pushing his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “Challenge accepted,” he returned as he began to walk off. As Lucio trailed after him, he added, “I wish you the best of luck, Count Lucio. I’m not an easy person to break.”

Lucio harrumphed. “We’ll see about that!” he said, shaking a fist at Ezra’s back. “You _will_ be mine!”


	2. Chapter 2

Whenever Asra returned to Vesuvia, there were few places that felt like home save Ezra’s magic shop. His body felt heavy; he barely had the strength to pick up his feet as he made his way to the establishment’s door. Unlike his previous trips, Asra was gone longer than usual, and knew at once he would draw Ezra’s ire once he stepped inside. Even if he didn’t readily admit it, the other magician was prone to loneliness, and would grow upset time and time again when Asra departed and never informed him. Not that Asra could—he found it very, very difficult to say goodbye to Ezra.

Drawing a deep breath, Asra twisted the knob and pushed, slowly drawing it open. Inside, he was greeted with silence. He glanced around furtively before slipping inside and clicking the door shut behind him. The storefront was bare of any life save the sharp smell of myrrh and spices. It was such a nostalgic and welcoming scent that Asra filled his lungs with it for a few beats, settling into the quaint atmosphere of the shop.

 _Don’t tell me he’s not here?_ the magician thought as he finally began to make his way to the back of the shop. _Ezra isn’t the irresponsible-type. He wouldn’t forget to set up a charm—let alone lock the door—if he was going out. Where is he?_

It was the chanted squawk of “ _Ezra! Fool! Ezra! Fool!_ ” that piqued Asra’s attention when he reached the end of the short corridor. There he saw Ezra, curled in on himself at the kitchen table, as his familiar—a salt-colored swallow named Dawn—pecked at the crown of his head with restless abandon. Her repeated mantra desisted when Asra appeared, at which she fluttered to him and landed on his proffered finger. Asra smiled as he watched the swallow puff up angrily, clearly displeased by her master’s lack of attention.

“Did Ezra forget to feed you again?” he asked her. “You poor thing, I’m so sorry.”

“ _Ezra! Fool!_ ” Dawn cried. “ _Fool! Fool!_ ”

Asra repressed the chuckle that dare escape him. As adorably comical Ezra’s familiar was, it would be a great insult to her to laugh at her misfortune. He extended his hand so that she flitted off to her perch while he fetched her a handful of birdseed. Pacified by Asra, Dawn tweeted at him lovingly before shooting a glare at a still napping Ezra. The magician turned his attention to him in kind, a warm smiling curving on his lips as he simply studied the white-haired sleeper.

He couldn’t deny his fondness, his affection. Ever since they met at that Masquerade so many years ago, Ezra had stolen his heart, and he did so many, many things to put a name to the face that enchanted him. Circumstances fell into place the more their paths crossed until Asra was familiar enough to enter and exit the magic shop as he pleased. Asra desperately wanted to tell Ezra how he felt, but held his tongue, as he knew rejection would hurt more than his pining. He made do with the little moments where Ezra suspected nothing, where his vulnerably was palpable and not a wall sat between them.

Asra’s hand hovered above Ezra’s hair, a twitch to him finger signifying his desire to run it through his wan locks. The magician instantly denied himself the luxury, instead slipping his touch behind Ezra’s ear and dispelling the charm that glowed there. Slipping into the seat across from the other magician, Asra waited for him to come to consciousness upon calling his name. Ezra stirred restlessly before his eyes landed on Asra. Before he could say a word, his mouth cracked in a deep yawn, reminding Asra of Faust and how she did the same after a nap.

Brow furrowing, Ezra said, “I told you to stop doing that. If you want to wake me, do it properly.”

Asra feigned a frown. “But you’d be even more grumpy if I did. It’s easier undoing your magic. Though I wouldn’t have to do it at all if you slept normally.”

“The charm serves a purpose—to deafen my ears. I can’t help it if I need complete silence to sleep.”

Asra chuckled. “You’re like a fussy baby. It’s adorable.”

Ezra harrumphed and turned away, pouting. It was uncharacteristically cute, and definitely a side that he showed no one else but Asra. It made the magician’s heart swell with giddiness and a longing desire to embrace him. He only assuaged himself by forcing a smile and chuckling again.

It would be a beat before Ezra looked at him again. Slowly, he said, “You’re finally back. You were… gone… a long time.”

Whatever happiness Asra felt was dashed aside by Ezra’s hurt tone. “I-I’m sorry,” he said. “I had some pressing business to take care of that took longer than expected. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

Ezra pursed his lips. “It’s fine, but… Can’t you tell me what you do, Asra?” His eyes searched the other magician’s imploringly. “Do you have to keep it a secret?”

Asra flashed him a doleful smile. Reaching over, he cupped Ezra’s hand in his own. “I can’t,” he said. “Not yet, anyhow. In due time, I promise to tell you everything, but I can’t do that now.” Any further inquiry Ezra might’ve had for Asra was silenced when he drew his hand away and swiftly shifted topics. “Anyway, wasn’t your mother invited to have afternoon tea with the countess a few days ago? How did that go?”

“It was interesting.”

“What did she tell you?”

“I actually went with her.”

Asra’s brows shot up. “Really? I thought you dislike such fancy gatherings.”

“You know I do, Asra.”

“Of course. I can still remember how uncomfortable you appeared that day we met at the Masquerade. Like a fish out of water. What caused you to go?”

“Mom wouldn’t stop bugging me.” Ezra sighed. “So, I just gave in instead of turning her down. It was easier.”

“Mm, and what made it interesting? Did the countess pass along some juicy gossip or something?”

Ezra shook his head. “No, actually, I wasn’t with the countess at all. Mom, alone, spent the entire time in her company. I was actually entertained by Count Lucio.”

Asra gave pause. “Lucio?”

“Yes. It seemed that, in just a few moments of seeing me, he liked me. Went so far as to claim me for himself.”

“And…?”

Ezra blinked. “And what?”

Asra slipped his hands beneath the table to hide his trembling. “Did he do something to you?” he asked as steadily as he could. “Did he hurt you?”

Ezra looked at him, incredulous. “No,” he replied. “He did nothing of the sort. He was irksome, but by no means dangerous. The worst he tried to do was cop a feel, but I rebuked him before he could.”

Asra let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad nothing happened, but you have to be more careful, Ezra. He’s a dangerous man.”

“You too, huh… Mom warned me as well. Though I don’t know what there is to be worried about. He’s nothing more than a child.”

Asra’s face grew serious. “A child who wields all of the power in Vesuvia, Ezra.”

Ezra chuckled. “If you’re suggesting that he might put me to death—he won’t.”

“This isn’t a joke!”

“Trust me, he won’t.” Ezra smiled. “He likes me, Asra. That, in itself, means he won’t do anything to me. What child do you know would throw away a new favorite toy so quickly?”

Asra frowned. “You’ll be surprised how quickly a child can tire of anything.”

“You have my word, Asra. I’ll keep an eye on hm. Please trust me—I’m prepared if anything goes wrong.”

He sighed. “All right. I trust you, Ezra. After all, you’re an established magician. I’m sure you have a trick or two up your sleeve.”

The small lapse in conversation between the two magicians was punctuated by the appearance of Faust peeking out from Asra’s colorful folds. The two studied the serpent as she flicked her tongue at once before cocking her head left, then right, then left again as if studying something. Her head then bobbed playfully as she sang out, “ _Ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra!_ ”

Asra laughed lightly at her, scratching her chin. “What’s that, Faust?” he asked her. “Are you trying to sing?”

“ _Ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra!_ ”

“Look, Ezra, she’s trying to—”

“No, Asra. Wait.” Ezra held up his hand. “Listen, do you hear that?”

Asra blinked at him, but remained quiet as instructed. When he strained his hearing a tad, he could discern the high-pitched singing of a youthful voice outside the magic shop. Ezra and Asra exchanged glances before rising in tandem and making for the window. The singing grew louder, as did the notable clatter and clack of wheels against stone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ezra said. “He’s actually here.”

“Who, Ezra? Who?”

“Count Lucio.”

Asra drew in a sharp breath. “Why is he here? Did you arrange to meet him?”

“No. I never even told him where my magic shop was. He must’ve found out on his own.”

The magician began to pace around, panicked. “No, no… This isn’t good. _This isn’t good_.”

“Asra—”

“H-he’s probably here to do something to you, Ezra.”

“Asra—”

“Y-you have to escape.” Asra suddenly rushed to him and gripped his shoulders. “Ezra, you have to escape! I’ll distract him, you make for the alley door and—”

“Asra, I’m not going to run,” Ezra said. “But you should go.”

“E-Ezra! Stop it, this is dangerous!”

“I told you to trust me, Asra. I know what I’m doing. Go. Please. I’ll take care of this.”

Asra frowned. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

“Then… Then hide.” Ezra cocked his chin in the direction of the back room. “Remain quiet while he’s here, and if he approaches, head for the stairs.”

Despite his reluctance, Asra did as he was told. Ezra watched him leave before pulling the door open and lingering in the entrance as a pearl and gold-colored carriage pulled up before the magic shop. The young boy leading the way suddenly beat out a surprisingly elaborate tune on his drum, punctuating each note with a wailed, “Ra!” At the very end, the carriage shifted on its wheels, before Count Lucio himself popped out with a flourish; every heavy piece of jewelry and his clawed appendage glinting in the warm sun.

Lucio’s brows arched when his gaze landed on Ezra. “Ezra, Ezra, _Ezra!_ What a sight for sore eyes you are after so long!”

“It’s only been a day, Count Lucio.”

“And how I yearned to see you every hour of that day!”

Ezra quirked a brow, smiling. “It appears you have no other pressing matters to concern yourself with, hmm? If you have time to only think about me, I mean.”

Lucio huffed. “W-whatever! Just—I’m coming in!”

The count marched off the carriage, throwing a handful of coins to the young boy in passing as he made his way to the magic shop. Ezra studied the boy hastily plucking up each coin before rushing off, then moved aside to allow Lucio entrance. Yet, the count seemed content lingering before Ezra in the doorway; the small alcove pushing them up chest to chest against each other. Lucio’s smile sparkled dastardly as if he had a thousand and one different fantasies circling around in his mind.

“Is something the matter?” Ezra asked.

“Not at all, I was simply marveling at your eyes,” Lucio said. “They’re golden. _Bright_ gold, as if gilded by the sun itself.”

“Hm. Are you looking to purchase them?” Ezra’s eyes traced each accessory on Lucio’s person. “They wouldn’t aid you in making a statement, however—you covered in enough gold, in my honest opinion.”

Lucio was anything but insulted as he slipped passed Ezra and fully into the shop, his chin held high in triumph. “I have no need to purchase them because I bought something better,” he said.

“Oh?” Ezra shut the door close. “And what’s that, Count Lucio?”

He spun toward Ezra and stretched his arms out wide. “ _This!_ ”

Ezra searched about. “You mean the very air we breathe? I think you’ve been scammed out of a few coins, Count Lucio.”

The count rolled his eyes. “No! _This!_ The magic shop you own!” His smile curved ear to ear as he hooked a thumb at his chest. “Well, _used_ to own. It’s officially under my ownership now, and by extension, _you_. I told you I would make you mine, Ezra! So, now you are!”

Ezra smiled placidly at him. “I admit, that was very creative of you, Count Lucio,” he said.

He puffed out his chest. “I know, right?”

“But”—Ezra shrugged—“even if you own the shop, you don’t own me.”

“Eh?”

“Even if I live here, I am simply watching over the shop for my aunt. It, technically, is still under _her_ ownership, despite her absence.”

“W- _What!_ ”

“So, the only thing you own is a little magic shop in some rundown neighborhood, not _me_. Nice try, Count Lucio. Kudos for the attempt, though.”

Anger welled up within Lucio, paging across his face multiple times despite his attempt to appear undisturbed. His clawed hand opened and closed repeatedly in tandem with his sudden pacing, before he found it fitting to take his anger out on a set of jars sitting on the mantle above the hearth. Curses sprung up from his lips as glass and sundries littered the floor. The stove salamander, once napping in the hearth, suddenly scuttled out and darted under a nearby cabinet. It was only a yelp in fear at it that had Lucio halting his tantrum. After a beat, he fixed himself prim and proper, and turned back to Ezra.

“Even if my plans didn’t work out now, they _will_ in the future.”

“I wish you the best of luck, Count Lucio.”

The count strode toward the exit, but not without stopping beside Ezra and looming so close to him, their noses touched. “Very soon, you’re going to realize what a mistake it was to challenge me, Ezra,” he murmured tersely to him.

Ezra’s lips pried back in an amused smile. His hand drifted to up to the small expanse of skin under Lucio’s sash, tracing a line down it. “I’m _very_ excited to find out what you have in mind for me, Count Lucio.”

Despite swallowing thickly, Lucio harrumphed, and reluctantly pried himself from Ezra’s company. He pulled the door to the magic shop closed behind him with such strength, it rattled the entirety of the shop. When he appeared long gone, marked by the hasty rattle of carriage wheels speeding off, Ezra let out a sigh as Asra emerged from the back. The magician joined him at his side, searching his face out of concern despite bearing witness to everything.

Eventually, Ezra said, “Keziah is going to _kill_ me.”

“Keziah…?”

Ezra dropped into his seat, rubbing at his temple. “My aunt—the one who put me in charge of this shop. Like you, she’s a traveler, and is constantly away collecting exotic ingredients from faraway lands. I agreed to look after her place as long as I was allowed to stay freely. She agreed, and was _adamant_ I take care of her “special place.” Aunt Keziah loves this magic shop, Asra. She’s going to be incredibly upset that Count Lucio “purchased” it. I don’t know how I’m even going to explain _that_ to her.”

Asra sighed as he stepped over the broken glass jars before the hearth, bending low to carefully pick up the sundries littering the floor. “Does he even own the shop? Wouldn’t he have to purchase it from your aunt directly?”

“You said it yourself, Asra—he’s a child who wields all of the power in Vesuvia. I’m sure he bribed or blackmailed someone to purchase the ownership under the tables.”

“Hm. Then there’s only one solution to your problem, Ezra: You have to buy the magic shop back from him.”

“Clearly, but I don’t have the money for that.” He hung his head. “I refuse to ask Mom for money—it’s out of the question. The shop itself hardly turns a profit as well. So, I’ve only one option.”

“Playing along on Count Lucio’s terms.”

“Yes.”

Asra looked at Ezra. “Do you realize how much of a dangerous man Count Lucio is now? You _have_ to stop this before it gets worse!”

Ezra hummed after a long pause of silence. “Not yet. I can’t withdraw just yet.”

Asra snapped at him after sweeping up the glass. “ _Ezra!_ Listen to me!”

“Trust me, Asra.” A smile slowly bloomed on his face. “I have a plan.”

Asra let out a long sigh as he dropped into the seat across from Ezra. “I’m fond of you, Ezra, but there are times you’re insufferable,” he said. “That part is the bane of my concerns.”

“I’m sorry, Asra. The last thing I ever want to do is make you worry.”

Asra shrugged a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to do as you please, despite my reservations.”

“I’ve learned from the best.”

“Touché.”

“So…” Asra leaned against the tabletop, chin in hand. “What’s this plan of yours?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you.”

Asra rolled his eyes. “And why? You asked me to trust you, now you trust me.”

Ezra sighed. “If I tell you, you’re immediately going to tell me I’m foolish. I’d rather avoid that.”

“So, it’s an incredibly dangerous plan?”

“Incredibly.”

“I should’ve figured.”

Ezra combed a hand through his hair. “I’m just surprised at how quickly all of this escalated. A single day and I already have the count of Vesuvia breathing down my neck. I need to do something dangerous to ensure my safety.”

“Well, his interest _is_ genuine. It’s to be expected.”

“Yes. Quite.”

“And you…?”

Ezra eyed him. “What about me?”

“Is your interest the same?”

Ezra’s lips parted to rebuke any claim, but the words stilled on his tongue. Even if he couldn’t say it, the truth was, the magician was thrilled beyond reason to have Lucio’s undivided attention. Whether it was the count or the challenge itself, Ezra was unsure—the only thing he could parse was how his mind was taken with the unexpected. Lucio exercising his power to purchase his aunt’s magic shop was so out of the blue, Ezra was surprised he went to such lengths. He wondered how his own retaliation would be taken.

“Ezra?” Asra said, interrupting his thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re actually… having fun with this?”

Ezra blinked before he frowned, unaware he was smiling the entire time. “No… No, I’m not,” he swiftly replied. “I’m not having fun at all…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just two small notices to be aware of before you read this chapter: 
> 
> \- ravidia is pronounced, "ra-vee-dee-uh." this has no bearing on the plot, however.
> 
> \- there is some strongly implied sexual content near the end, but it isn't addressed in detail. do observe discretion when reading.

It took Ezra a week to mentally and physically prepare for his plan, but it wasn’t without its deterrents. Namely, Asra persistently trying to dissuade him, and Dawn worriedly keeping vigilance when she sensed his hesitance. Their hovering was mildly annoying, despite Ezra knowing it came from a good place. Even when the night before initiating the plan came, Asra’s arguments had gotten to him, and he almost gave in. _Almost_ , but the satisfaction of another victory prickled an enjoyable feeling across his temple. There was no way he could withdraw now.

Asra snapped his fingers in front of Ezra’s face, breaking him from his reverie. The magician doubled back, glancing up swiftly to his worried face. Asra let out a sigh as he dropped into his usual seat across from Ezra, the weight of the situation more palpable on his end. Ezra almost offered him some words of comfort, but knew Asra would only dismiss his attempt, saying he should save them for himself.

“Are you really sure about this, Ezra?” Asra asked him. “Completely sure?”

“What’s wrong? Finally stressed all of your arguments against me?”

Asra leveled a plaintive look at him. Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure of myself,” Ezra said. “My confidence is still a little rough around the edges, but it’ll do.”

“And Lucio?”

“What about him?”

“Did he try to contact you again? Make an appearance?”

“Yes, once.” The corner of Ezra’s lips quirked up. “He sent me an overwhelming large bouquet of white roses two days ago and a bard to sing his favors.”

Asra glanced about, seeing no sign of the floral arrangement. “And?”

“I promptly sent the thing on fire, frightening the bard off. As he ran, I told him to be sure to tell Lucio that his affections went up in flames. I felt a little guilty, but it served a good laugh.”

Even Asra couldn’t help a few chuckles. “I think I’m beginning to understand the “fun” of this,” he said.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Ezra responded.

It was at that moment that Dawn landed with a flutter before Ezra. She looked like a pale ball of anger as she fluffed up at him, recanting marks of, “ _Ezra! Fool! Ezra! Fool!_ ” filling his ears. Even trying to pacify her with head scratches came to no avail; she would painlessly peck his finger away, rebuking him. Even if Asra’s concerns didn’t quite sway him away from danger, Dawn was definitely giving him second and third thoughts. She was the one most at risk if his plans ended up in failure, as even if small and nimble, it wouldn’t be difficult to track down a white swallow. Lucio would definitely make her a target.

“She’s cares about you greatly, you know,” Asra said. “Last night, she came to me with, “ _Ezra. Worried. Ezra. Worried,”_ and wouldn’t stop until she fell asleep on my head.”

Ezra was hit with a pang of guilt. “S-she’s always been a worrywart,” he said. “Has been since I was a boy. She was kind of like a second, overbearing mother; too bad she never grew out of the habit.”

“ _Ezra! Fool! Ezra! Fool!_ ”

“Well, she’s not exactly wrong,” Asra said. “Though, that’s just one of many things I lo—”

Both magicians were started to silence at a sudden knock at the door. Exchanging glances, Ezra was the first to rise, despite Asra edging on telling him he’d take care of it. Carefully, Ezra peeked out into the night, and was greeted by a regally-dressed, impatient courier standing outside the magic shop. His foot tapped restlessly as he studied the neighborhood with a look of disdain, clearly appearing out of place in a nook of Vesuvia that only knew stiff linen and rags.

He turned fully to Ezra once he opened the door, thrusting a cream-colored envelope with a familiar royal crest to his chest. “Countess Nadia has extended an invitation to join her for afternoon tea tomorrow at the palace,” he said. “Please present this invitation to the palace guards if you accept, otherwise please pass along a message if you’re unable to attend. Thank you for your time.” With that, the courier turned on his heel, and disappeared into the night.

Asra hovered by Ezra’s shoulder the entire time until he shut the door closed. Taking the envelope from Ezra, he slit his finger through the seal, and read its contents briefly. The other magician tilted his head, wondering what he checked for.

“This actually _is_ from the countess,” he said. “I’d recognize her lovely penmanship anywhere.”

Ezra’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” he asked. “It actually is from her? Why… would she invite _me_ to tea?”

“Well, it could be because of the obvious—Lucio—or she wishes to learn more about Jemima. Whatever the case, the circumstances work out, yes? You were headed to the palace, anyway. Entertain her company for a bit, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“I think I will considering I didn’t get a chance to last time.” Ezra offered his hand to receive the envelope from Asra. “As Mom said, it’s rare for anyone to have tea with the countess of Vesuvia. Speaking of…” Ezra eyed Asra. “How do you know of the countess? You appear familiar with her handwriting.”

Asra rubbed the back of his neck, giving a sheepish smile. “Would you believe me if I said I’m actually good friends with her? She would send me invitations _constantly_ , but when I became familiar face around the court, I would just have to show up for the palace guards to allow me passage.”

Ezra pushed up his glasses, hiding his surprise. “Yet another secret, Asra? You’re absolutely full of them, aren’t you?”

“You don’t even know half of it,” the magician retorted. “They’re in endless supply.”

* * *

The winding climb up to the palace tired Ezra out before he reached the gates, but the racing of his heart couldn’t be attributed to the climb alone. His wits were about him—to the point he could barely manage a word when the same palace guard from before asked him his business. The magician simply produced the invitation and handed it to him. That sufficed, as he was led from the gates and to the palace doors.

Unlike before, Ezra wasn’t asked to wait in the parlor. He was taken through it and straight to the palace’s veranda. At once, the cool air of autumn carried with it the scent of lavender perfume and seeped tea. It calmed the magician’s nerves considerably as Nadia rose from her seat and offered her hand in greeting. Like before, Ezra bid her hello and pressed his forehead to the back of her hand.

“How lovely it is to see you again, Ezra,” she said, before motioning to the opposing chair at the table. “Please, have a seat.”

Ezra inclined his head. “I hope you’ve been well, countess? Autumn brings with a chill; many have fallen ill with the change of the season.”

Nadia smiled warmly. “Yes, I’ve been well,” she said. She poured a cup of tea for Ezra and slid it before him. “Tea such as this keeps me in good health.”

Ezra tentatively reached for the cup and took a sip. At once, a throb of anger hit his temple at the very familiar taste. _Good friends, my ass_ , he thought as he set the teacup down. _You probably have the honor of eating at her dinner table if you’re gifting her your teas, Asra_.

Nadia’s face dropped. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Is the tea not to your liking?”

Ezra shook a dismissive hand. “Oh, no. No, no. I thought its taste was familiar, but I was wrong.”

Nadia hummed. “I received it from a good friend.” Ezra almost choked. “But we’d be here all day if I talked of him. Today, I’m here for you. You see, Ezra, something was brought to my attention and I just had to speak to you about it.” The countess primly settled hands in her lap. “Has my husband done anything to you?”

“What… do you mean, countess? What kinds of things?”

“Just, well, _anything_. Anything at all. I admit, when that man talks, I only honor him with half my attention—though he’s undeserving of even _that_ much—but recently, all he’s ever ranted about is _you_. I swear, he’s talked more of you this past week than he has of me in the entirety of our marriage. It appears he fancies you.”

“Ah, that does seem to be the case. Ever since I showed up with Mom here, he’s made his interest known. I-I’m sorry, countess. I didn’t mean to become a thorn in the side of your marriage.”

Nadia gave Ezra two slow blinks, as if unable to believe what she heard, before she threw her head back and gave an uproarious laugh. The magician stilled, completely stunned, even as Nadia wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I appreciate your concern, Ezra. I really do,” she said. “But if you’re implying I may be jealous, you’re entirely mistaken.” She twisted her lip up in disgust. “That man doesn’t know the definition of fidelity. He’s had more affairs than you can count grains of sand on a beach. I couldn’t care less for what he does, so no, I’m not jealous. Our marriage was out of convenience, anyway; akin to a business partnership, if you must.

“However, I still feel like I should take some responsibility for his affairs, since I allow them. If Lucio is needlessly harassing someone, it is within my realm to make sure no harm comes of it. Before our marriage, Lucio would sentence people to death for the smallest infractions. I put a stop to that. So, if Lucio has made passing threats of any kind to you, do let me know, Ezra. I want to put your safety first.”

Jemima describing the countess as simply pleasant did her a disservice. She was worthy of the role she married into, if only for the selflessness she idolized with her concern for Ezra. He was nothing but a stranger to her, sharing some relation through his mother, but even he felt that didn’t warrant her taking charge of her husband’s affairs and righting his wrongs. Part of him wanted to apologize to _her_ —both for being stuck with such an unruly husband and for him stringing Lucio along.

Ezra shook his head at her, saying, “Lucio has done nothing to me. He has been an annoyance, but nothing else. It is probably the closest thing to civility he knows, yes?”

Nadia let out a sigh of relief. “Good, good. And yes, my husband knows nothing of gentleness. If he did, then I might be a happier woman. Enough about Lucio, for now. Please, drink more tea. Indulge.” She waved a hand to an untouched tray of lemon tarts. “With my concerns quelled, I want to enjoy the rest of my afternoon without thinking of that headache.”

Ezra smiled. “I agree.”

The two talked idly afterward, mostly of Jemima, her background, and how it influenced Ezra into becoming a magician. While Ezra thought he faired well when it came to courtly etiquette, Nadia mastered it with elegance. She could read the air succinctly; leaning forward when interested, drawing back when considering something, encouraging explanation by touching one’s forearm or tilting her head. If something unexpected or miraculous had occurred, Ezra could’ve seen himself sweeping her off her feet and dashing away to greener pastures. He felt for her, considering her circumstances; no one deserved to be shackled to a loveless marriage, benefits or not.

Nadia appeared full and pleased when she leaned back in her seat, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight bathing the leftmost part of her face. The welling urge to simply remain there and stare at the masterpiece known as the countess was strong; doubly so when Nadia’s glance caught Ezra’s, causing him to avert his eyes with a flush. She reached for him, cupping a hand on his instead of his forearm, worsening the dust of scarlet.

“You know, I’ve been curious ever since your mother did it,” she said, “but that gesture—the one you greeted me with. Is that the custom in Milova? I’m not acquainted with it.”

Ezra’s eyes remained pinned on where their hands touched. “N-no. Mom says it is, but, ah, i-it’s actually the custom of Ravidia—a small city-state bordering Milova.”

“Mm… I thought it a very sweet gesture, as if thanking me for being in my presence.”

“T-that’s the gist of it, c-countess. At least, I think so.”

Nadia’s smile widened. “I want to think the opposite,” she said. “I want to thank _you_ for spending the afternoon with me. It was truly enjoyable.”

To truly shock Ezra, she pulled his hand up, and tapped the back of his hand to her forehead. The contact of skin to skin warmed his face considerably. When Nadia released him, Ezra thought his thundering heart was trying to escape the cage of his chest.

“I wish I could keep you longer, but I’m sure you have business to attend to. Thank you for keeping me company, Ezra. It was greatly appreciated.”

It was such sweet sorrow to leave the countess, but Ezra was inspired by her gentleness. His previous hesitance dissipated completely as he rose to his feet. Unlike the count, who the magician noted as emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausting, Nadia knew just the right words and gestures to invigorate the soul.

“Countess, before I leave, I need to have a few words with your husband,” Ezra said. “Do you know where I can find him at this hour?”

Nadia quirked a quizzical brow, but said nothing on the matter. “He had guests last night, so he’s probably holed up trying to sleep off a hangover,” she said. “You can find him in his quarters in the west wing. Please talk very, _very_ loudly when you address him. It might inspire him to get out of bed.”

Ezra smiled at Nadia. “Will do, countess.”

Nadia gave the magician a dismissing wave that he kindly took. While he thought he followed the directions the countess provided him correctly, he still ended up lost, and had to have a servant lead the way. The count’s infamous narcissism was evident as Ezra was led down a long corridor—every portrait on the wall was of Lucio himself. Once before the ceiling-high double doors, the servant was quick to scuttle off. Ezra lingered outside the bedroom as he drew in a deep breath. Then, brimming with confidence, he clasped the handle and pushed.

Almost immediately, the intoxicating scent of wine filled his nostrils. While not a great connoisseur, Ezra could discern an expensive wine when he smelled one. However, it was terribly dark within Lucio’s quarters. At once, Ezra summoned a small globe of light, illuminating several half-filled bottles and empty glasses littered across Lucio’s room. Yet, it was the decadence of his quarters that was enough to drunken him; gilt and gold glimmered on every surface, the expenses required for it all mindboggling. Before Ezra made for the bed, he paused before a towering portrait of Lucio posed in red. Though he could appreciate the talent and work put into the piece, Ezra thought it unbecoming to be one of the poor souls forced to stare at it _every_ morning.

Lucio rested on his stomach; the fine lines of a muscular back and leg visible under the comforter seemingly pooled about him. Ezra lowered himself to the only sliver of bedside available, bringing the small globe of light to the count’s face. At once, Lucio recoiled from the light, burying his face into his downy pillow.

“ _Ngh_ —the fuck?—N-Noddy, I told you to leave me be! I want to rest!”

Ezra harrumphed. “Is that the way you talk to your wife? It’s no wonder she dislikes you.”

For a beat, Lucio breezily ignored the obviously masculine tone. However, upon registering the familiarity, he snapped up and widened eyes at Ezra before wincing away from the light. He still had the strength to point an accusing finger at the magician with his prosthetic arm, drawing his attention to the lack of armor and fixtures. It certainly piqued Ezra’s interest; it took great magical talent to make an appendage that radiated such energy through its sinewy, pulsing veins. His desperate desire to study it was broken when Lucio made a whining noise in his direction.

“W-what—I—huh— _damn it_ , what are you _doing_ here?”

“And here I thought you’d be happy to see me, Count Lucio. Aren’t I where you’ve always wanted me to be: right on your bed?”

Lucio pursed his lips. “Well, I’d prefer _under_ me, but you’re clearly not here to satisfy the burning in my loins.”

Ezra chucked. “You really don’t know a thing about me, do you?”

Before the count could retort, Ezra’s hand was upon him shoulder, rolling him on his back. Lucio floundered at how easily Ezra took the lead; straddling his hips with a talent unlike a virgin. The count’s mind was already beginning to blank; the pain of his hangover and the heady turn of events forming a thick soup he couldn’t think through. The magician sensed this; grinning placidly as he dragged his hand up Lucio’s bare chest and to his chin. Clutching it between forefinger and thumb, Ezra bent forward and kissed him softly.

Immediately, it drew a drive out of the count. Lucio deepened the kiss to something rough; his hands roaming every inch of Ezra looking for buttons to snap off or sashes to pull. The magician only fought him by pulling back whenever he tried; only satisfying Lucio’s hunger by letting his thumb the hollow of his thigh. When enough felt like enough, Ezra pulled back entirety, leaving Lucio a huffy puddle of dissatisfaction.

“I don’t know what kind of bullshit you’re planning, but you better not leave me in this state,” Lucio said breathlessly. His dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

The globe of light glinted off Ezra’s glasses. “Admittedly, I would like to continue as well, but”—he ground his hips down, making Lucio unconsciously buck—“I can’t do so until we come to an ultimatum.”

Lucio’s head jerked back against the pillow. “W- _whatever!_ ” he said with a gutteral cry. “Whatever you want!”

Ezra tut-tutted. “Uh-uh, Count Lucio. I need an agreement.”

“F-fine, yes, _mn_ , fine!”

“That’s more like it. Then, here’s my request: Return the ownership of the magic shop to me—”

Lucio’s silver eyes snapped to his. “F- _fuck_ no. It’s mine! I, _ngh_ , I’ll burn it down if I want to!” Ezra pressing further had him clamping hands on the magician’s hips. “For, for _fuck’s_ sake, stop teasing…!”

“If you want _this_ , say yes.”

“D-damn it all! Fine, have your damn shop back! See if I care, just— _hah_ —just give me what I want already!”

Ezra chuckled. “As you wish, Count Lucio,” he said. With a flourish of his hand, he killed the globe of light, bathing both of them in darkness. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is done. totally took a different turn from what i had planned, but it was fun to write, haha. this was a "test fic" to see how i would write for some of the characters from the arcana, and i like how i portrayed them. i feel i could've written lucio's character better, but i settled for what i did for now. nevertheless, i hope you enjoyed this if you happened to read it to the end!

Ezra’s mind was a smattering of contradictions as his eyes slowly pried open, bringing him to consciousness. A pleasant ache had found itself at odds with some mounting shame. Both the weight of this internal struggle and an arm draped across his chest weighted Ezra down to the horrifically comfortable bed, making it difficult to move. The magician didn’t want to budge, but desired to put as much distance between himself and the palace at that moment.

As carefully as he could, Ezra pried himself from Lucio’s hold to feel around for his clothes. During their entanglement, the count thought it fitting to pitch his clothing into the darkness. At the time, Ezra couldn’t have cared less as he was preoccupied with _other_ things, but he was realizing now what a dilemma he set up for himself. After some stumbling and searching, spilling some wine after tripping over a bottle, he managed to collect everything, and hastily tried to dress himself. This was met with some drawback—namely, Lucio stirring and reaching for him.

Pale arms wrapped about Ezra’s waist just as he began to button his top. The magician rolled his eyes as Lucio nuzzled the small of his back, insistently tugging him to his cleared side of the bed. Ezra planted a hand on his face and pushed him away, but the count grunted and refused to let go.

“Mmm… Where do you think… you’re going?”

“Home.”

“No… Stay.”

“I’m leaving, Count Lucio. Let go.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Your count demands it.”

“I don’t care.”

The magician harrumphed, barely discerning silver eyes looking up at him in the darkness. Ezra had a soft heart; he almost felt for the count. _Almost_ , had he not remembered he just bedded a hedonistic, murderous manchild. Though Ezra couldn’t deny there was some satisfaction from having someone so full of himself begging beneath him. The magician’s ego was brimming with contentment despite the drawbacks of the situation.

“When you can last longer than four minutes, then I’ll stay,” Ezra said as he shifted away.

Lucio’s grip on him only tightened. “I-it wasn’t four minutes,” he huffed.

“My apologies. _Five_.”

“Shut up. You _know_ you liked it.”

“For the first minute, maybe,” Ezra said. He couldn’t help the smile that quirked on his lips. “When you gave up halfway through, I almost asked if you wanted to tap out.”

“T-that’s because you _kept_ moving these hips of yours…!”

“That’s what sex entails, Count Lucio. It shouldn’t be something one-sided.” Though Ezra wouldn’t have been surprised if, for the count, it _was_.

Lucio grinned. “Cut the shit, Ezra. During the second round, _you_ couldn’t keep up.” One hand slid along Ezra’s inner thigh. “Just admit I was good.”

“If I was having sex with the equivalent of a dead fish, then sure, it was _fantastic_.”

Ezra finally stood and pushed Lucio off of him. The count reluctantly let go, but not without enjoying the last view he’d have of Ezra’s ass before a pair of pants was pulled over it. He realized any arguments he brought up with Ezra would only be met with protest, so Lucio let his eyes linger as if savoring the view of the magician until next time—whenever that was.

Propping his chin up, Lucio said, “It’s a damn shame we couldn’t enjoy ourselves longer. You’re too much of a prize to give up—clothed or unclothed.” He reached his prosthetic arm out and thumbed the edge of Ezra’s waist sash. “Though it’s obvious which I have a preference for.”

Ezra slapped his hand away. “Don’t test my patience, Count Lucio. Once was enough, especially at the behest of the magic shop.”

Lucio beamed brightly. “Then I guess I just have to take something else from you—if it means bedding you again.”

The corner of Ezra’s lips pulled back in a grin. “It’d be a worthwhile exchange.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Just name what and when,” Ezra said, but corrected himself. “Actually, no. Surprise me, Count Lucio. You’re very good at that.”

Lucio’s eyes crinkled from his widened smile, pearly even in the darkness. “It’ll be a challenge to knock your socks off.”

The palace was eerily quiet when Ezra departed Lucio’s chambers. He was unsure of the hour, but knew it was at least late evening; he passed no servants and only a handful of dozing guards when he made his way to the palace gates. The same guard who allowed his passage twice was still stationed, eying Ezra as he departed. A part of the magician was hesitant to meet his gaze, as if he knew what Ezra had done.

“S-still working at this hour?” Ezra said conversationally. “It’s rather late, isn’t it?”

“It is, edging on nine o’ clock,” the guard replied. “Forced to though; covering for another guard who suddenly fell ill.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate.” Ezra lingered as the guard bolted the gate. “Do you mind me asking your name? For when I visit the palace again.”

“Osmond.” He dutifully returned to his post. “Should I expect that visit to be soon?”

“N-no. No, I don’t think the count would call for me in such short time.”

Osmond quirked a brow. “I meant a visit to Countess Nadia.”

“Oh! Oh, no. No, no. I-I don’t think she’d inviting me to tea anytime soon.”

Osmond shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know; she’s sweet on you.”

“Huh?”

“I was posted near the veranda during the afternoon and happened to see you two. I didn’t eavesdrop, but I did hear Countess Nadia laughing loudly. It was pleasant; I haven’t heard her laugh like that in a long time.”

As much as hearing that warmed his heart, Ezra didn’t want to stay. He took a step back as he said, “That’s… wonderful. Yes, that’s wonderful to hear. Listen, ah, I-I have to go, so—”

“Right. It is quite late. Shall I see you off home? You’re a little jumpy.”

“No! I mean, no. I’m fine. I just get a little jittery with the dark, b-but I’ll be fine. I’ll be going now.”

The guard bid him goodbye with a nod. “Have a good night then.”

The walk back to the magic shop was uneventful. A recent heatwave had settled in with the autumn chill, leaving the night comfortably warm. Ezra tugged at his collar a few times, realizing that a high-necked jacket really wasn’t choice attire for Vesuvia. He shed it just as he reached the threshold that separated the bourgeois from the great unwashed.

His stomach gurgled when he passed by the bread stall, yearning for the pumpkin loaf Asra would bring him sometimes. Instead, Ezra opted for leftover stew when he finally reached home. He tickled the stove salamander to flames, then settled into a seat at the kitchen table to collect his thoughts. Thankfully, Dawn was there to free him from his worries.

The white swallow landed before Ezra with a tilt of her head. She wasn’t angry anymore, but she still appeared reluctant to talk to the magician. “ _Ezra? Happy? Ezra? Happy?_ ” she asked as she tilted her head left and right, feeling for her master’s mood.

Ezra feigned a smile at her. “For the most part, yes,” he said. “Have you seen Asra? Did he go home?”

“ _Asra. Gone. Asra. Journey,_ ” Dawn said.

“Already? He was barely home a week…” Ezra suddenly felt very lonely. “Well, I shouldn’t expect anything less.”

“ _Ezra? Sad? Asra. Gone.”_

“Mhm, but he’s not entirely to blame. There’s a great number of things that have deadened my spirits, but I’m, mm, I’m satisfied. For now. More happy than sad.”

Dawn bobbed her head, content by his reply. She remained in his company as he enjoyed a late dinner, then followed him to her perch when he collapsed into bed. The pain of physical exertion caught up with him again, especially in his lower hips and back. Ezra tossed and turned for a bit, trying to find a comfortable position to no avail. Part of him _greatly_ missed Lucio’s bed, but not the count himself. He would’ve traded the magic shop and more to him if it meant just laying in that bed for just that night.

Soon, however, sleep was upon Ezra. He dreamed of strange things; of regally-dressed beastmen that never addressed him by name, saturated and bright colors against an otherworldly sky, the smell of ash and brimstone and the iron of blood, of crawling red beetles across the desiccated body of a goat. He awoke with a start that had him panting for breath and pooled in his own sweat. He glanced about wildly, only for his eyes to connect with Asra’s.

“Ah, are you all right?” the magician asked him gently. “You were tossing and turning quite a bit and didn’t even use your sleeping charm.”

“Asra…” Never before had Ezra been glad to see him. “What are you… doing here? Didn’t you leave already?”

Asra hummed. “Did Dawn tell you that? I was preparing to leave, but I was going to depart in the morning. Was, until I forgot something in the shop. I heard you groaning and got worried, so I stayed for a bit. Was it a bad dream?”

“Not bad,” Ezra said. “Just… odd.”

“What was it about?”

“I can’t quite remember. I can only picture fractions and pieces, but they’re nothing significant.”

Asra turned about on the bed, resting his head on the edge of Ezra’s pillow. “That’s unfortunate.”

Ezra eyed him. “Why? Do you want to hear about my dreams?”

“Actually, yes. I really want to.”

“Well, I’ll you mine if you tell me yours.”

Asra turned to him. “My dreams aren’t very exciting.”

“I still want to hear them.”

“Okay. I dream mostly of… you.”

“Me?”

“Mhm. They’re simple dreams of spending time with you, living with you. Of days after days where I don’t have to leave you constantly. Those are the kinds of dreams I have.”

Ezra’s mouth parted from a deep yawn. “Those… sound like… pleasant dreams…”

“They are.” Asra smiled at him. “Especially when I’m living them.”

“What… do you mean…?”

“To just remain by you like this is a dream, Ezra,” Asra said. “I-I always wanted to tell you that.”

Ezra turned to him. “Thank you, Asra,” he said. “I… really appreciate.” His eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. “Especially with the… stupid things… I do.”

“It’s what I love about you,” Asra said. It was the last thing he said to the other magician before he drifted off to sleep again. His eyes lingered on Ezra’s peacefully slumbering face before he rolled off the bed and picked up a small sachet sitting on the bedside table.

 _I told myself I would be happy for you no matter what you did,_ he thought, _but I can’t help how I feel. It hurts, you know, Ezra. It hurts to see you interested not just in someone else, but_ him. _I just hope you know what you’re doing…_

With that, Asra clambered down the stairs, and exited the shop with a heavier heart than when he entered. It was only the warmth of the night that kept the frigidness of his situation at bay; the distance between him and Ezra the only comfort he looked forward to on his journey.

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of Ezra’s sleep was dreamless and content. Morning brought with it the unpleasant chirrups of Dawn’s early singing, but even that wasn’t enough to sour his mood. It was as if she sung the grace of his bliss in a choppy, croaky melody without any beat or rhythm. He couldn’t have thought of a better way to relay what he felt when he woke up. Dawn flitted after Ezra as he made his way down the stairs for breakfast. As he settled down for another bowl of stew after giving his familiar a handful of birdseed, he decided on not opening the shop that day. He preferred to spend it in his own company.

Like his dreams, Ezra only remembered snippets of his conversation with Asra during the night. He strained his mind to think of what was said in the midst of breakfast, but could only pull up the basic tacit that Asra enjoyed their time together. The fact it took the magician that long to admit to him that he was regarded as a good friend almost hurt; they’d known each other for years, what kept Asra from simply relaying his efforts were appreciated? Ezra wouldn’t go as far to say he constantly reminded Asra, but he made it known how much he cared through words and gestures constantly. It was why Asra called him kindly.

“It’s but another secret,” he said. “One that he won’t tell me. Possibly ever.”

“ _Ezra. Sad. Asra. Secret,”_ Dawn said.

“Mhm. Who would like it if a friend keeps secrets from them?”

_“Asra. Must. Ezra. Must.”_

Ezra winced. “Then, I take back what I said, excuse me. We keep secrets for a reason, but it’s, it’s prickly. The closer you get, the more it hurts. A true dilemma. Is that why he keeps me at arm’s length? To not hurt me more?”

“ _Asra. Care. Ezra. Sad.”_

“I-I know he cares, Dawn. I _know_ he does, but yes, it does upset me. Greatly. Maybe that is why I—”

A knock at the door, like previous times, was meant with frown when it cut him off. Rising to his feet, the magician spoke as he opened it. “Unfortunately, the shop is closed for the day,” he said. “Please do come back tomorrow if you’re interested in something.”

“There’s only one ware I’m interested in—and I’m staring right at him.”

Ezra’s face fell, deadpan, as he came upon Lucio standing in the alcove of the magic shop’s entrance. He propped himself up against the doorframe with his prosthetic arm; noted by Ezra to be superbly polished in the morning light. The magician’s heart went out to the poor soul that was forced to scrub it until it shimmered; they must’ve been up half the night fearing for their life from the count’s demand. Lucio caught him staring, widening his grin considerably. Ezra rolled his eyes in response; one night together and his bravado had grown twice the size of Vesuvia.

 _How annoying_ , Ezra thought.

“What do you want, Count Lucio?” Ezra asked, crossing his arms. Much to his chagrin, any bite his words might’ve had fell short.

“We haven’t seen each other in _so_ long, Ezra. Can you blame me for wanting to come see my current favorite person?”

Ezra ignored the mention of “current.” He was positive he was part of a list in Lucio’s mind. How long that list was, well, the magician didn’t want to consider it. “You’re breaking your record, Count Lucio. It’s been _less_ than a day—you’ve lasted longer before. Your stamina for things is really quite pitiful.”

Lucio furrowed his brow. “You’re still clinging to that? T-that was only after one time!”

“Then you’re looking for another?”

Count Lucio leaned forward, the sharp tang of wine on his breath. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

Ezra couldn’t help the smile that curved on his lips. Before Lucio thought it wise to steal a kiss, Ezra splayed a hand on his chest, and pushed him back. “Remember our promise?” he said. “Satisfy me with a challenge, and then I’m all yours.”

“Then a simple one: I bet I can last longer than the five minutes you claim.” Lucio waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “How about it?”

Ezra snorted from a laugh that dare rip from his throat. It was the most ridiculous proposition he’d ever been offered, but his golden eyes glinted, indicating his interest. It was then and there that Ezra finalized he’d been led into temptation by the Devil itself, though it was only a passing mental jab at the count. Face brightening from a wide, wide smile, Ezra clawed his hand onto the lapel of Lucio’s top and tugged him through the doorway. The count stumbled over his own two feet before he breached the threshold.

“Fine, challenge accepted,” Ezra returned. Delight and regret prickled across his temple. “You better make it worth my time.”


End file.
